


The Scorch - Dreams (Part Two of The Maze - Group 0)

by guardianstar



Series: The Maze - Group 0 [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Recovered Memories, Survival, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianstar/pseuds/guardianstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of The Maze - Group 0, Claire thought she was going to die...she was wrong. WICKED would never let her get away that easily.</p><p>The second stage of her journey link with the events in The Scorch Trials. She wakes up in the same building as her friends from the Glade, only they can't remember who she is. Claire must convince them that she's not a spy from WICKED and regain the trust of Newt, who seems to have gone through certain experiences that no one will explain. Why does he have a limp? Where are Gally, Alby and James? Why is the boy they saw after they escaped from the Maze part of their group? What on earth do WICKED have planned for her after everything she did to ruin their first experiment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories of the past?

“Listen to me, you have to stay quiet.”

“Dad? What’s going on? Where’s Mum?”

“We-We’re playing a game, sweetie. Hide and seek, you remember how to play that right?”

“Oh, I like hide and seek! I’m always reeeeaaally good at finding places to hide!”

“Well, we’re playing hide and seek. We need to find a place to hide where no one can find us. Can you help me?”

I nodded. “Is Phil playing too? Is he looking for us?”

“Yes, yes, but we need to hide. Remember, we need to be really quiet. Not a sound, okay? It’s really important. Promise you won’t make a sound.”

“I promise."

Dad smiled and I watched in silence as he cracked the front door of our house open a little to peer outside. There had been a lot of scary noises out there for ages but it went quiet a while ago. I wanted to ask Dad what was going on but I remembered my promise to keep quiet and kept my mouth shut. After a few minutes, he turned away from the door and lifted me into his arms. I gripped his shoulder with one hand and held onto Green Lion with the other. Green Lion was a small beanie green lion toy. The fur of his mane was worn out and matted, but he was precious to me.

Together, Dad and I left our house. I didn’t like how dark it was. The street lights weren’t working so we only had the light of the moon and several fires that burned in the street to light our way. There was a weird feeling in my stomach and I found myself checking over Dad’s shoulder for anyone who could be with us. The road was empty, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone. Dad was being careful, I could sense he was scared too. Keeping to the edges of buildings, we walked far away from home, farther than I’d ever been. I tried to remember the way we went, but after a while I gave up trying. Dad’s eyes were hard and his eyebrows were furrowed with concentration. _What’s going on? Why are we leaving home in the middle of the night? Will Phil be able to find us if we go this far from home? Maybe Mum is helping him…_

“Just a little further…” Dad whispered in my ear. His breath was becoming irregular and laboured. He had this weird look in his eye now, one that I’d noticed a few times. I’d noticed it in Mum and Phil’s eyes a lot before Dad took them upstairs a few days ago. An unfocused, dazed look, like they weren’t really in reality anymore. I didn’t like it. I shook his shoulder a little, bringing his eyes back into focus. He looked down at me and smiled weakly. “Just a little further…”

I could her noises in the distance now, loud banging noises, like crackling but louder and more aggressive. It reminded me of the sounds that would come from the TV when Dad and Phil watched movies I wasn’t allowed to watch. Phil would always tease me and say I wasn’t old enough, even though he was only two years older than me. Still, this sound was scary…plus there was the roaring sound. Screaming, yelling, explosions, it wasn’t the sort of stuff you’d want to be heading towards and yet that’s where we were going. I looked desperately at my dad but his eyes had gone weird again. “Dad?” I whimpered.

“Shh,” he hissed, tightening his grip on me. I shrank in his arms and kept quiet as he edged around the corner of another building.

Absolute chaos, that’s the only way I could describe it.

I didn’t really want to describe it.

The _people._

_What was happening to them?_

Everywhere, men and women were being gunned down. Armed men in uniform stood behind barricades, firing into the swarm of humans that surged before them. People were falling everywhere. Red everywhere…

“The Cranks,” I heard my dad whisper. I flinched at the word. I’d heard so much about them. The grownups talked about them a lot in hushed whispers. Mum used to always get concerned about them, said something about her friend Louise getting sick and turning into a Crank. As far as I knew they were sick people who were dangerous. That’s how Mum and Dad always described them.

Suddenly, we were moving forward towards the fences. I screamed and clung to Dad as a man with a bloody face staggered towards us with a crazed look in his eyes. Dad kicked him away and kept running. “Don’t shoot, I have a child!” He yelled, stepping over several corpses as he continued towards the barricades. I glanced up and caught the eye of one of the armed men in black uniform.

“Is she immune?” The soldier yelled over the noise, his voice emotionless and robotic. He almost sounded bored.

“Yes! Please take her; it’s not safe here anymore! My wife…my son…” He stopped, tears gathering in his eyes. “You have to take her…”

The soldier snapped a few orders to the men nearby and a gap opened for us in the barricade. “Pass us the girl.”

We were among the Cranks now. They mostly ignored us, but a few sniffed at me curiously. Dad growled at the ones who came too close and they usually shrank back and the few that ignored his snarls were shot by the armed men. We forced our way forward and when we were right in front of the gap I felt Dad begin to lift me away from him.

“No!” I screamed, holding on tighter.

“You have to go.”

“No, you can’t leave me!” I felt rough gloved hands grab me from behind the barrier. “No! Dad, please!”

I saw tears stream down my dad’s face, but he was giving me a pained smile. “I love you.”

The hands tore me away from him and lifted me to safety as the barricade closed again and Dad’s face disappeared into the horde of Cranks. _“DAD!”_


	2. Not Dead?

I opened my eyes.

 _Still not dead, huh? Doesn't WICKED know how to kill me? And what was that dream? A flashback? Are my memories returning? Well I did just get a bunch of my memories zapped back into me. Ugh, that was painful. I feel okay now, though. I don’t feel like I'm dying anymore either. I actually feel quite comfortable…I should move._ Slowly, I pushed myself up and rested on my elbows to get a good look at wherever I was.

The room I was in now was different to the padded room I’d been in before. This one was an actual room with proper walls and beds and even a chest of drawers. The walls and ceiling were all brightly coloured and cheerful while the floor seemed to have a rainbow carpet. “Fabulous,” I muttered before pushing myself into a full sitting position and swinging my legs over the edge. When I did, I noticed something weird. I couldn't really put my finger on what it was though, the world just felt…smaller somehow.

_I'm probably just over analysing things._

There were four fluorescent lights shining softly from the ceiling, giving me a clear view of the room. There were four bunk beds in the room and I was sitting on the bottom bunk of one closest to the only door in the room. I got up and tried to open it, expecting it to be locked or to at least show some resistance but it swung open easily. _WICKED isn’t even putting up a fight anymore if they’d let me escape this easily…oh. It’s a bathroom._

The door lead to a regular sized en suit bathroom with white tiles, a toilet, a shower, a sink, and a mirror; it was a regular bathroom. I checked that the taps and shower both ran water and that the toilet flushed. Everything was in good working condition. It even felt like I’d been the only person to ever touch this bathroom even though there were enough beds for eight people in the other room…what was going on? I went back into the main bedroom and opened the only chest of drawers. It was just full of spare bed sheets, pillow cases, and towels. I searched every inch of both rooms for anything particularly special but came up empty handed except for a single fire extinguisher that hung innocently from the wall. “Well thank goodness I have this, I’d hate to get caught in a fire,” I muttered, settling back into my bed. “Of all the things I've faced, I don’t think I've ever actually had to deal with fire.” _Except for the flames from the Sun Flares, but that was different. I was a kid then, so Mum and Dad took care of all that…_

After waking up, my memories of the past became foggy, but clearer than they’d ever been before. I couldn't remember a lot, especially not about the time after I was taken into WICKED’s custody as a child, but I remember quite a bit about my life before then now. I remember my parents, my brother, Philip, my toy Green Lion. _I must've been such an imaginative child. I named a green lion toy ‘Green Lion’. Really, Past-Me?_

The only think I still couldn't remember was my full name. In all my memories no one ever says it, or I just can’t hear it clearly. _Is Claire even my real name?_

 _No, I can’t think about this now. I need to find my friends._ The last thing I could remember was falling unconscious in the padded room after that Janson guy gassed me. _I thought I was going to die! He certainly made it seem like that’s what was going to happen._

_“You’re not going anywhere. This is where it ends for you.”_

_Yup, that sounded pretty final to me. I guess he just wanted to scare me as his own personal revenge. Seriously, though, what am I doing here? How does this help WICKED? Don’t they want to analyse my brain patterns and see how I cope with stuff? Well, whatever. There are no doors in this place other than the one leading to the bathroom, so I guess I’ll just take a shower. There’s not a lot I can do right now, is there? A door will appear eventually…or a window…who knows, maybe Newt will come and rescue me himself!_ I laughed at the idea of Newt breaking down one of these brightly coloured walls and charging in with Minho, Gally, and all the other Gladers. _“I'm here, Claire. We promised to never give up, even if we’re separated. I'm here now and we’re free. WICKED can’t hurt us anymore. I’ll protect you, so let’s run away together.”_

_And I’d swoon and say, “Oh, Newt, I love you now more than ever!”_

_“Shuck yeah, baby, let’s roll.”_

_And then the others would join together like a Transformer to form our chariot of love and carry us off into the forest where we’d live happily forever in the wild._

“Pfft, yeah right. That gas is making me crazy if I'm having fantasies like that. I should really have that shower.”

Swatting away my over dramatic thoughts, I treated myself to a long, hot shower. It was probably the first time I’d had a hot shower in…years I guess. The water felt divine on my skin and I couldn't help but enjoy myself, despite my circumstances. For some reason I wasn't even a little concerned about my situation, it didn't even bother me that there was literally no foreseeable way out of these rooms. It was like how the Maze was, with no exit, and I seriously doubted that I’d get the chance to accidentally fall through an invisible hole to freedom again. I was just filled with this feeling that everything was going to be okay. I was in a bubble of peace. I was disconnected from the outside world. There was no Flare, no Cranks, no death, no Grievers, no WICKED (well…maybe a little WICKED), and no one else to bother me. It was like a tiny vacation.

Still in the bubble, I hopped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. That’s when I noticed it. Well…I guess I should say _them._ My breasts.

Somehow they’d grown….a lot. Just yesterday they were an A or a B cup in size, but now they were at least a C cup. Now that I was looking at myself I noticed that I’d matured in various ways, like I’d skipped through puberty overnight. I knew what that weird feeling had been now: I was taller. The world hadn't gotten smaller; I’d gotten bigger (in more ways than one). “What the hell?!” I yelled and also noticed that my voice sounded older too. It wasn't as high pitched as it had been. I’d been about thirteen or fourteen yesterday but now I was…what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen? I couldn't tell!

I ran over to the mirror and studied my face. Yup, I definitely looked different. My hair was longer too and a shade or two darker in places, though I still had streaks of bright blonde in various places. Natural highlights are weird. _Now that I think about it…this is the first time I've actually looked at myself in a mirror. I had that picture from earlier and that’s all I really have to know what I looked like, but now I'm totally different! I look…well, if I must say so myself, I look sexy as hell. No wonder Newt chose me for a girlfriend, even if I have a shucked up personality._ I flicked my half dry hair for emphasis, but quickly chided myself and returned to seriousness. _Really, how long was I asleep? I don’t feel like I was out for long, though I do feel well rested. I feel stronger than I did before, more physically fit than I was in the Maze, and my mind is clear. Wouldn't I be weak and frail if I’d been in a coma for three or four YEARS?_

I massaged my temples and sighed heavily. “Oh well, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Who knows what WICKED can do…?” Giving in, I glanced down to check that my clothes were still there. I’d woken up in clean light blue pyjamas with a button up shirt and it didn't seem like there were any other clothes to change into. _I guess this’ll be a pyjama day then…_

I dried myself off completely, including my hair, and pulled on my clothes. When I entered the bedroom I saw that a meal was set out and waiting for me on top of the chest of drawers. There was a lot, more food than I’d seen for ages. I probably wouldn't have been able to recognize most of it if it weren't for my partially regained memories, but I was able to identify enough to know none of it was deadly. There were cheeseburgers, fries, pizza, pasta, potatoes, chicken, beef, fish; all these things I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever. “How does WICKED even get this stuff? Hasn't the world gone to shuck?” I muttered, gulping down as much food as I could. I wasn't exactly hungry, but I knew I mustn't have eaten solid food for a while if I’d been in a coma for three years. Plus, who knows when I’d next get a chance to eat? Anything could happen with WICKED. Tomorrow I might be running away from more Grievers or fighting my way out of here, you can never know.

Once I’d consumed everything on the chest of drawers, I returned to bed and this time I made sure to claim the top bunk. Sure, there was no competition for it, but I still felt happy about being able to sit up high. I liked high places.

_“Only idiots like high places.”_

“Oh, shut up, Phil,” I murmured, and curled up to go to sleep.


	3. It's a Long Story...

I was jolted awake by a loud crashing sound. I sat up quickly and cried out in pain as my head smacked against the ceiling. “Shuck!” I winced and carefully climbed down from bed, rubbing the sore spot with one hand. “What was that noise?” I wondered aloud, glancing around for anything different. Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday, except there was a new door. I stared at it blankly for a moment, not entirely sure how to react. _I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There was magically appearing food, why not a magically appearing door?_

I walked up to it cautiously. It had appeared where the fire extinguisher used to be, so I guess even if there was a fire at least I had a place to run to. I tried to open it. Locked. Obviously. Again, I shouldn't be surprised. _I could've used the fire extinguisher to break the handle, so that’s probably why they got rid of it. They still don’t really want me to leave, but they’re being less permanent about it._ I sighed and looked around the room to see if there was anything I could use to break the door open. _I guess I could take apart one of the beds and use a leg or something to smash it…or I could try one of the drawers, but those are made of wood. I need something metal and hard. Ugh, that fire extinguisher would've been perfect!_

I tried a few times to break the door down myself, but it didn't work. Gally would've been a perfect tool for this sort of thing, or maybe Minho. _I'll have to keep a stronger grip on them next time_ I tried tearing off the toilet seat to use, but that didn't work. I tried using the shower head, but it wouldn't come off. I considered smashing the glass of the mirror but that wouldn't have been able to do anything. I might've been able to pick the lock with it…but I couldn't pick locks. I tried the drawer idea just to see if it could work, but it didn't. I tried taking apart a bed, but it proved to be too difficult. There was nothing to take apart. There were no screws, no nails, no anything! It was like the bed had been carved out of a block of wood. I even removed the mattress on one bed to get to the support beams used to support the mattress under the bed, but even they were moulded to the bed. No amount of jumping would break them either; it was like they were made of steel.

“Do you guys even _want_ me to escape?” I whined, collapsing onto the removed mattress that was now lying on the floor. “Am I supposed to just rot here?”

Exactly then, another loud crash, similar to the one I’d heard earlier, exploded right outside the magically appearing door. I yelped and rolled off the mattress, holding it up for defence. Now I wished I’d smashed the glass so I could've used it as a weapon. I watched the door from behind the mattress and edged, with it, towards the bathroom door. If I could get inside maybe I could block the door from…

The door slammed open dramatically, startling me enough to make me drop my matress-shield. I cursed and was about to run into the bathroom when I noticed who it was who had come through the door.

It was that boy. The brown haired shuck face who’d ‘greeted’ us after we made it out of the Maze and came down that slimy slide thing, the one who’d been with that dark haired girl with blue eyes. He was wearing the same blue pyjamas as me for some reason but I didn't care about that. I didn't know who he was exactly, but I knew he was with WICKED. Still, I was surprised to see him. He looked older than he had looked before, though, like he'd ages a few years. _I really have been in here for a while, haven't I? Damn it, it's all their fault! I need to get the shuck out of here and find Newt and the others!_

The boy stared at me incredulously, like I’d been the last thing he expected to see. His eyes flared with anger and disappointment. He looked desperate, like he’d been looking for something only to find the opposite of what he’d been looking for. _Is that really the face you show to a prisoner you've been keeping in a coma for three years?!_ He muttered something under his breath before focusing on me. “Who are you?” He asked. His voice was harsh, but I could feel sadness seeping off of him. Not that I spared him any pity, his demeanour was just making me a little confused. _He's probably faking it, trying to get some kind of reaction from me. That's what they want after all..._

“You should know who I am, shuck face,” I growled, glaring daggers at him.

He frowned and studied me more closely, but recognition didn't show in his eyes. _It's an act, an act..._ “How would I know who you are?” He asked, but sounded a little uncertain of himself.

 _He couldn't have forgotten already, could he? Unless someone else was keeping tabs on me or whatever it is that's been happening._ “How could you forget your own test subject, moron? You seemed to hate my very existence the last time we met. Honestly, WICKED isn't doing well with their choice of staff…”

“What?!” He snapped, his sadness disappearing and being replaced by aggression. “You’re with WICKED?” He took a menacing step forward.

“I'm not, you are! Now, tell me where my friends are! How long have I been here and what the hell have I missed?!”

Now he looked really confused. He clearly didn't know what to make of this situation. _This has to be an act, he couldn't have just forgotten me! But what if he really doesn't remember me at all? It certainly looks like it... Did he get amnesia or something?_

“Oi, Thomas, who’re you yelling at?”

I stiffened. _Is that…_ “Minho?”

The Asian boy whom I knew so well popped his head round the door. He stared at me in shock. “What the…” I felt like crying. _Minho's here! He's alive! Is everyone else here too? Newt? Minho? Harriet? Sonya? Alby? Was everyone here? No, don't get your hopes up, Claire, it could just be him. But wait...what's he doing with that guy..._ “…Thomas who’s this?”

I snorted, pushing down my fears with humour. “Minho, it’s me, Claire! Honestly, does no one remember me anymore? Real funny guys.” I chuckled, but my own words only increased my fears. _What if he really doesn't remember me? What happened while I was out? Please don’t tell me he has amnesia too, that would be really unlucky..._

Minho fully entered the room and turned his gaze back to me. His face didn't show a hint of recognition, only confusion and suspicion. He was wearing the blue pyjamas too. “How do you know my name?” He asked, pure aggression in his voice.

 _He's treating me like a threat, what the hell?_ “Stop messing around, Min’, this isn't a good joke.”

The other guy, Thomas, turned to Minho expectantly. “You know this girl?”

“Nope, never seen her before in my life.”

I flinched at his words.

“Who are you? How do you know who I am?” Minho asked again, glaring at me. I couldn't bear to look into his eyes so I looked down at the mattresses strewn about on the floor. _Oh shuck…he really doesn't remember. Why doesn't he remember?_ Then I recalled the conversation I’d had with Janson. _Oh no..._

“They sent you up into the Maze again, didn't they?” I asked, my heart breaking.

Minho frowned, “How do you know about the Maze?”

 _It’s true. Janson did say they’d do that. It’s coming back to me now: one Maze for the boys, Group A, and one for the girls, Group B. They sent them up into the Maze again and that means their memories all got wiped._ I laughed without humour. “Of course you won’t remember me, they wiped your memories.” I looked up at him and smiled sadly, at him. “My name’s Claire. You knew me well before...before they...” I couldn't figure out how to word it all. "We were friends before they put you in the Maze." _Again._ Minho's eyes narrowed at me before sharing a confused look with Thomas. I frowned, “Wait, if you were sent back into the Maze, then why are you here too? You're with WICKED...and why the shuck are the two of you together?”

“We’re asking the questions here!” Thomas growled. “More importantly, have you seen another girl around here? Long, dark hair, blue eyes…”

 _That must be the girl he was with before._ “I haven’t seen her around here. I've been alone in this room for…I don’t know, a day?” _Or maybe longer, days, weeks, years, I wouldn't know._

“Where were you before that?” Minho asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, I think I was asleep. Or I had my memories wiped again, but I doubt it cause I can still remember you guys.”

“What?”

“It’s a really long story. Is everyone from the Glade with you?” _If Minho got sent to the Glade again then everyone must've escaped and ended up here somehow. It took over a year to escape last time, and that involved cheating and a few miracles, who knows what these guys went through. They must all be here now though._

Thomas and Minho stared at me in a mixture of shock, confusion and suspicion. I seemed to be getting a lot of that. “How do you know about…”

“Like I said, it’s a long story. If they are, I should probably tell everyone at once. This isn't the sort of thing I want to say twice.”

Thomas and Minho shared another look. “How can we trust you?” Thomas challenged. “You could be part of WICKED.”

“ _You're_ the one who's with WICKED,” I hissed at him. "I still can't figure out why you two are together but you're obviously not going to say anything. I can't prove that I'm not with WICKED, but all I can say is that someone with WICKED wouldn't be able to handle the horrific about of sass he dishes out." I smirked as a few memories of his sarcasm came back to me and tried to ignore the sad ones that included Callum. Those two always shared sarcastic remarks and jokes together. I continued, “Sure, he hasn't brought it out yet, ‘cause he’s being all suspicious and aggressive, but it’s only a matter of time before he starts dishing it out in painful quantities.”

Minho frowned, “I don't like how you know so much about me when I don’t know shuck about you.”

“You just can’t remember it,” I smiled again. “Honestly, I can’t prove to you that I’m not with WICKED. I probably look really suspicious right now, locked in a bedroom, knowing everything about you guys, surrounded by mattresses…”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Part of the story.”

“Are you sure you haven’t seen Teresa?” Thomas blurted out again. The sad, desperate look reappeared in his eyes and I immediately felt sorry for him, despite everything. She must mean a lot to him.

“No, sorry.”

Thomas sighed and immediately shut off the emotions and settled into a business-like attitude. “We should bring her to the others. We can talk about where she came from during or after we talk to Aris.”

Minho watched me for a bit before sighing. “Alright. Oi, she-shank, who else do you know apart from me.”

“From the Glade?”

He shifted a bit, as though my mentioning the Glade made him uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

“Just the guys?”

“What?”

“Well I know both guys and girls but your Maze was just full of guys, right?”

“Apart from Teresa,” Thomas butted in.

I stared at him in surprise, “She was in your Glade too?”

“You knew her?”

“Well, no more than I knew you. You guys were with WICKED, though, when I met you. You don’t seem like you’re a part of that clique now though…”

Thomas’ eyes darkened, “No, we’re not.”

“They sent you into the Maze?”

“I don’t like how many questions you’re asking us,” he growled.

“Now you know how the rest of us felt when you popped out of the Box,” Minho grunted, earning himself a glare from Thomas.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, just take me there. I’ll just point out everyone I recognize.” _I hope Newt and Gally are still alive..._

“Good that.”

I smiled to myself. _They’re still using the same Glader slang in the boy’s Maze. I wonder if the girls kept it too…_ Together, Thomas and Minho escorted me out of the room. I choked and covered my mouth as a sickening stench crashed into me. “What IS that?!” I gagged, trying to block out the smell. It was something deathly and rotting, ugh.

Thomas winced, “You don’t want to know.”

I glanced up and studied the room and what I saw immediately made me want to throw up. Throughout the large room we’d entered, people hung from the ceiling – at least a dozen. They’d all been strung up by the neck, the ropes twisted and trenched into purple, bloated skin. The still bodies swung to and fro ever so slightly, pale pink tongues rolling out of their white lipped mouths. All of them had their eyes open, though they were glazed over and lifeless. It looks like they’ve been there for hours, if not days.  
I pushed past Minho and Thomas to escape the room. I ignored all the boys that stared at me with surprise as I burst in and crouched, breathing heavily, on the floor. What the hell WAS that?! There were…people…dead…ugh… I tried to suppress the need to throw up and silently wished I hadn't eaten all that food last night. The sight of those bodies brought back painful memories of what had happened a few days…I mean a few years ago. The slaughter that went down as we escaped from the Maze, all those people who had died, the blood, the bodies, it was all coming back. I remember it like it’s still happening. _Lorna got ripped apart right before my eyes, Felix killed himself, Bonnie got her chest ripped open, Jessie…poor Jessie never made it out. I promised them I’d get them out but they all died. How could I forget?! What was I DOING yesterday?! It was like I’d forgotten, oh God, what’s happening? I need to find Newt, I need to make sure he’s-_

“Are you alright?”

I gasped. That accent…that voice…could it be…?

“Newt?” I looked up at the beautiful blonde boy whom I loved. He was crouching a few feet away from me, giving me a look of concern but also a hint of suspicion. He was so much older now! He’d grown so much, he was even taller than he’d been before and his voice was deeper too. His cheekbones were more defined and his eyes were the same dark brown colour they'd been before. Now that I had more of my own memories I realised that they reminded me of brownies. I knew he didn't remember me. I could see the confusion and caution in his gaze as he kept his eyes on me, appanrently surprised that I knew his name. _Well I'd be surprised too._

“Oh, so you know Newt too,” Minho chirped as he strolled in casually with a silent and moody looking Thomas just behind him.

Newt frowned. “What?”

“It’s a long story,” Minho explained, giving me a look that expressed his annoyance, “that she’ll tell us later apparently.”

“She hasn't told us anything except that her name’s Claire,” Thomas muttered. “She seems to have met all of us before, but none of us can remember ‘cause they wiped our memories.” He paused, "At least that's what she _says_."

“Well, I don't know all of you,” I corrected him. I scanned the room taking in all the faces I recognized and wincing at how few there were. “I know, Thomas, Minho, Newt, Clint and Frypan. I guess I knew Teresa too, but she isn't here…” _I wonder where Gally is...maybe he's in another room somewhere._

“You don’t know Aris?” Newt asked.

“Is he not from your group?”

“Nope, he showed up magically like you did,” Minho grunted, “except he’s in Teresa’s room.”

“Where was I?”

“Your place just said ‘Storage Room’."

I rolled my eyes. _Of course it did._ The room we were in looked basically the same as mine, except the carpet wasn't rainbow coloured. Everyone was wearing blue pyjamas too. Not only that, but the tops of four bunk beds had been removed and pushed against the walls, creating enough space for everyone to sit in a circle. I did a quick head count and counted nineteen Gladers plus the Aris kid. If I included myself there were twenty one of us. Newt had gone to sit on a bed at one end of the room but was scooted so close to the edge that it seemed like he wasn't even sitting down. There were empty spaces around him that Minho took instantly and patted the space next to him for Thomas to join. I felt a pang of loneliness when I looked at the trio. It was like I’d been replaced and forgotten. Still, I couldn't let myself be weakened yet. There was work to do.

“Which one of you is Aris?” I questioned the room full of boys. 

“Here,” a boy on the opposite side to the trio answered my question. He had olive skin and his dark hair was cut surprisingly short. His face looked kind of innocent but also nervous. He was surrounded by strangers after all, of course he was nervous. At least I had a handful of people I recognized…even if they didn't recognize me.

“You’re from a Maze full of girls, right?” I asked, already guessing where he came from.

Aris stumbled over his words, “H-how did you…”

“It’s a long story,” I sighed, starting to get annoyed with how often I was saying that..

“You should tell us this story,” Minho said. “The more I listen to you, the more confused I get.”

I glanced around for a place to sit. I didn't like the idea of sitting on the beds next to people I didn't know so I sat on the floor by the door and leant against the wall. “Where should I start…”


	4. We've Got Nicknames Now?

I told them everything I could remember from the moment I came up in the Box: about becoming a Builder, the incident with the Runners, my friends, becoming a Runner, my relationship with Newt (Minho elbowed Newt and raised his eyes suggestively when I mentioned those bits but I couldn't read Newt’s expression), how Gally and I got chased by Grievers, how I accidentally fell through the hole and found the way out of the Maze, how we found the code to the secret door, how WICKED tried to stop us, how all my friends started dying, how the Grievers attacked us, how we escaped, how only half of our escape group made it out, the slide, how I met Thomas and Teresa, how the soldiers knocked us all out, how I woke up in the padded room, my discussion with Janson, regaining some of my memories, being gassed, waking up in this weird place, and being discovered by Thomas and Minho. Like I said, I told them everything. Well...I left out my dream and my few remaining memories of the Flare and what happened in the past, they only needed to know about my story.

Every few sentences, sounds of surprise and confusion erupted from the Gladers. The idea of another Maze as well as a Maze before both Mazes was a lot to take in, especially in one sitting. I was patient and waited quietly each time they started yelling until Newt shut them up. I tried to answer all the questions they yelled at me, but sometimes I just didn't know the answer.

When I mentioned how Bonnie died, Minho got really quiet. Even if he couldn't remember her, the idea of what happened must've hurt him all the same.

There was a long moment of silence after I finally finished.

“So we’re just supposed to believe this?” Someone eventually called out.

“What proof do you have?”

“What reason do I have to lie to you?” I growled, irritated. “I have a huge buggin' scar on my back from when I fell through the hole with that Griever, I can show you that as proof if you want!”

“Calm down,” Newt said. “We believe you.”

Minho turned to his friend, “Seriously?”

“She’s right; she has no reason to lie.”

“She could be with WICKED!” He half yelled, “She could be one of the Creators for all we know! The only ones here that we don’t know are her and Aris; they might even have teamed up!”

“No way, I don’t know her,” Aris shook his head. “I know Harriet and Sonya though. I didn't spend a long time in there but I think Harriet was the leader of the girls…”

“I still don’t get how there can be two Mazes,” Frypan muttered. “That place was huge! How could there be another one just sitting around?”

“Apparently WICKED is funded by a lot of people,” I answered. “They’re trying to find a cure for the Flare after all.”

“The Flare?” Thomas perked up. “The lady in the bus who rescued us mentioned that. Said it was a virus that lived in the brain or something, turned people crazy. These people are trying to find a cure for it?”

“I don’t know exactly what they’re doing. Something about brainwaves and responses. I didn't really get the full five star presentation and guided tour before Rat-face gassed me out for a few years,” I grunted. _Seriously, I've missed out three whole years of my life! I'm not used to this body yet either, it’s weird having boobs all of a sudden…_

“I still think you’re suspicious,” Minho growled. “Even with the story and explanation.”

Newt rolled his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Thomas shook his head, “No, he’s right. We just got out of the Maze expecting everything to be over, that peace was ours and that we were free. We were wrong. It’s not wrong to doubt a perfectly suspicious stranger who knows too much about us. Plus, this could be a trick.”

I snarled, “It’s not a trick, besides you’re more likely to be part of WICKED than I am.”

Thomas winced because he knew that on some level that was true, but Minho puffed up. “Thomas might be an ugly shank, but he’s one of us. He lost his memories just like the rest of us and, even if he used to work for WICKED, he’s on our side now.” Thomas didn't smile, but I could see the small ray of happiness light up in his eyes at his friend’s words. It was true.

“I love the treatment I get from my friends,” I muttered.

“We aren't your friends.”

Minho’s words sent a bolt of pain straight to my heart and I swear I actually felt physical pain. This whole situation was a massive pile of klunk stacked on top of more klunk with a secret hidden pile of klunk under all of it. Newt didn't remember me. The one thing most important in my life had forgotten about my existence. Sure, it wasn't his fault, but I couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. Minho wasn't making it any easier. He was overly suspicious and was doing everything he could to make sure I knew exactly what I was: an outsider. I wasn't a Glader anymore, not in their eyes. I was a stranger with a long story about what used to be but isn't anymore. I wasn't one of them.

I could've cried there and then. I really, really wanted to. Everything was crashing down on me in a horrible river of despair. I wished Lorna and Bonnie were with me, but they were gone too. Everyone was gone. WICKED had torn everyone I cared about away from me. Lorna, Bonnie, Callum, Felix, Erik, Dan, they’d all died in the Maze. I thought I still had Newt, Minho and Gally, but Gally seemed to be dead, considering he wasn't here, and Newt and Minho couldn't remember me. They were still there, but…they weren't the people I once knew. Newt and Minho had spent years in the Maze all over again, of course they’d changed. They’d experienced things in there I’d never know about, and maybe I’d never get the chance to learn about their time there at all. 

_Am I alone now?_

_Yes…I'm alone._

I could either accept that fact or ignore it, either way it was the truth now.

I wasn't a friend to these people.

I was a stranger.

Someone they didn't trust.

I let out a shaky breath and smiled a little, but it was painful. “No…I guess not.” Eager to change the subject, I turned to Aris. “So what’s your story?”

Everyone’s attention turned to the boy, almost as if they’d forgotten about him until now. Even Aris himself looked somewhat surprised, but appeared to be feeling a little less awkward after hearing my story. He looked around the room to make sure everyone was listening before returning his gaze to me. "Well, my story is basically the same as yours...with a few major differences. I was thrown into this gigantic maze made out of huge stone walls – but before that my memory was erased. I couldn't remember anything about my life from before. I just knew my name. I lived there with a bunch of girls. There must've been fifty of them, and I was the only boy. We escaped a few days ago – the people who helped kept us in a big gym for a few days, and then moved me here last night – but no one explained anything.”

“Wait a minute,” Newt said. “Were you the last one to arrive? And did everything go buggin' nuts when you did? Did you come in a coma? With a note that said you were the last one ever?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aris was saying even before Newt had finished. “How do you know all this? How…”

“So it’s like the she-shank said, WICKED built two of those mazes, run two different tests, it’s the same shuck experiment!” Minho said, the earlier belligerence gone from his voice. “Or the same…whatever. But they had all girls and one boy, we had all boys and one girl.”

“Told you,” I muttered, though I wasn't sure if anyone actually heard.

“Did they call you the Trigger?” Thomas asked Aris, looking at him.

Aris nodded, obviously just as perplexed as anyone else in the room. _I think I'm the only one here who isn't surprised right now, but this is the first time I've heard all of this stuff about being the last one ever and comas and weird notes. Was this how the experiment was supposed to end?_

“And could you,” Thomas began, but hesitated. “Could you speak to one of those girls inside your mind? Ya know, like telepathically?”

_What?_

Aris’s eyes widened, staring deeply at Thomas as if he’d understood a dark secret that only someone else who shared it could understand. The two continued to stare at each other, not moving their gazes from each other.

_What’s this about telepathy?_

“What’s going on?” Newt asked, looking back and forth between Thomas and Aris. “Why’re you guys looking at each other like you just fell in love?”

“He can do it too,” Thomas answered, not breaking his gaze with Aris.

“Do what?” Frypan asked.

“What do you think?” Minho said. “He’s a freak like Thomas. They can talk in each other’s heads.”

“What?” I said aloud by accident and quickly shut my mouth, hoping no one would notice me. _People could talk telepathically? Seriously? The real ending of the Maze Experiment is weird as shuck…_

“Who killed who?” Minho said, obviously I’d missed a bit of the conversation. “No more of your voodoo klunk while we’re around.”

Thomas finally broke his gaze with Aris and turned to Minho. “He had someone he could do this with, just like I did. I mean… _do_. But he said they killed her. I want to know who _they_ are.”

Aris's head dropped. “I don’t really know who _they_ are. It’s too confusing. I couldn't tell the bad guys from the good guys. But I think somehow they made this girl Beth…stab…my friend. Her name was Rachel. She’s dead, man. She’s dead.” He covered his face with both hands.

“Well, how’d you end up with us?” Newt asked. “Where are all these girls you keep talking about? How many of them escaped with you? Did they bring all of you here or just you?”

Aris looked up finally and wiped a couple of tears from his cheeks without the slightest hint of shame. “Look,” he said. “I'm just as confused as everyone else. About thirty of us survived, they took us to that gym, fed us, and cleaned us up. Then they brought me to this place last night, saying I should be separate since I'm a guy. That’s it. Then you sticks show up.”

“ _Sticks?_ ” Minho repeated.

Aris shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t even know what it means. Just a word they used when I got there.”

“Hey,” one of the Gladers standing behind Aris called out, pointing at him. “What’s that on the side of your neck? Something black right below your collar.”

Aris tried to look down, but couldn't bend his neck to see that part of his body. “What?”

I glanced over and tried to make out what it was, but couldn't get a clear look. Newt offered to take a look. He stood from the bed to walk over and for the first time I saw his limp. It stood out almost painfully and I took a sharp breath when I saw it. _He’s got a limp? What happened to him? How’d he get it? Is he injured? Is he in pain? What happened to him in the Maze?_ I completely forgot about the thing on Aris's neck for a moment and just focused on Newt, feeling a jolt of pain at the idea of the guy I loved being injured in such a permanent way.

I noticed Thomas looking at me weirdly and I averted my gaze uncomfortably. _Oh yeah, I'm still an outsider. They shouldn't be surprised that this is my reaction though; Newt didn't HAVE a limp when I knew him…_

“It’s a tattoo,” Newt said, squinting at the back of Aris's neck as if he didn't really believe his eyes.

“What’s it say?” Minho asked, although he’d already got up from the bed and approached to get his own look. Newt didn't answer right away and Thomas followed them over to get a look for himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Minho asked, referring to the tattoo.

“What does it _say_?” Aris asked, reaching around to feel the skin of his shoulders, pulling his shirt collar down. “I swear it wasn't there last night!”

Newt read the tattoo out to him. “Property of WICKED. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner.” He gave Aris a look, “Property of WICKED? I thought we’d escaped them. Or you’d escaped them too. Whatever.” As he turned around and returned to his seat on the bed, I could tell just by looking at him that he was frustrated. _It's understandable, these guys just escaped from the Maze and are now finding out that they never got anywhere. We're all still stuck in WICKED's plans._

“Why would it call you the Partner?” Minho said, still staring at the tattoo.

“I think they give us nicknames,” I interjected, bringing attention to myself again after being quiet for so long. “I think they’re based on certain characteristics we have. What sort of people we are in the eyes of WICKED. It’s just a guess, but…” I shrugged. It made sense. After all, I was The Glitch.

Aris shook his head. “Well I don’t have a clue why they’d call me that. I swear. And there’s no way that was there before last night. I showered, looked in the mirror. I would've seen it. And someone would've noticed it back in the Maze for sure.”

“You’re telling me they tattooed you in the middle of the night?” Minho said. “Without you noticing? Come on, dude.”

“I swear!” Aris insisted before getting up and running to the bathroom, probably to look in the mirror he most likely had in there. Minho went back to his seat and as he leaned forward to flop onto the mattress, Thomas suddenly exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“What?” Minho asked, staring at Thomas like he was insane.

“Your – your neck,” he stuttered. “You have it on your neck, too!”

“What the shuck you talkin' about?” Minho said, pulling at his shirt. Thomas ran over to him and slapped his hands away to get a good look at his neck.

“Holy…It’s right there! Same thing, except…It says: “Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A7. The Leader.”

“ _What_ , dude?” Minho yelled at him. Most of the other Gladers had gathered around to get a look and Thomas read the words out again, clearer this time. “You’re kiddin' me, man,” Minho said, standing up. He pushed his way through the crowd of boys to follow Aris to the bathroom.

I watched the boys descend into a frenzy as everyone started talking to everyone else. From what they were saying, everyone had ‘Property of WICKED’ written on their necks as well as ‘Group A’, though that was definitely specific to the Gladers. Subject numbers ranged from one to twenty and most of them didn't have the additional designations like Aris and Minho, just the property line. Newt was going around, reading everyone’s tattoos for himself, his face set in stone as if he were trying to memorize all the names and numbers. I watched him bump into Thomas and they both read each others.

No one offered to check mine; they seemed to be avoiding me like I was some strange creature that would bite if they got too close. I didn't mind too much, though. I didn't need anyone to read my tattoo for me, I knew what it said. I’d seen enough on that sheet in the padded room to know exactly what WICKED would stamp on me.

_Property of WICKED. Group 0, Subject 013. The Glitch._


	5. Don't Read My Scars

Before I could actually try to see what was on the back of my neck, a loud clanging bell began ringing throughout the room. I flinched at the suddenness of the sound and shrank into myself, wanting to move away from the sound but having no way to get away since it was coming from all around us. I covered my ears and glared around; searching for a source, but quickly saw that it was useless to even try. If there WAS a source, there were plenty of confused Gladers trying to find it anyway without adding myself to the crowd. Instead, I concentrated on the sound. It was familiar and impossible to forget.

_The Greenie bell...I remember hearing it when Erik came up and again when that other girl came up. Why is it playing now? Are we going to get a new Greenie? Here? I guess it’s not impossible, but these guys JUST got out of the Maze, would WICKED really dump a brand new confused kid on them like that? Even I don’t feel up for that and I've been out of order for three buggin’ years… Anyway, I guess I’ll take a look outside. Either there’s a new Greenie or something weird is happening and I want to know._

I got up and reached for the spot the broken handle of the door used to be. “Wait!” Thomas’ voice shouted from behind me, causing me to freeze.

“What?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him. “Something wrong?” It was hard to make myself heard over the noise of the bell, but I managed somehow.

“I don’t know, but it’s an _alarm_ , right? Something really bad might be happening.”

I frowned and glanced at the door suspiciously before shrugging. “Oh well, what've we got to lose?”

“Our lives maybe?” Minho snorted, appearing from the bathroom at last, rubbing his neck.

I smiled, “Well we’re no less likely to die out there than in here.” I pushed at the door a bit but it didn't budge. “Doesn't look like it matters anyway, the shuck door won’t open.”

“What?” Minho and Thomas exclaimed at once. Minho pushed past me and shoved the door as hard as he could. It didn't budge. “The hell…?”

“I guess WICKED doesn't want us to leave yet,” I explained. _They’re getting smarter. Maybe it’s because I'm around and they don’t want to let me rush their plans again. Either way they've taken extra precautions._

Frypan came over and tried to force the door open himself. I stepped away from the door and leaned against the wall, watching them struggle. I knew it was useless to try at the moment, so I didn't try to help. Instead, I glanced over at Thomas who was also leaning against the wall, with his arms folded, staring intensely at the floor. He looked tired and worn out, much like many of the other Gladers. Clearly they’d been through a lot, more than they looked ready to handle. _They’re going through too much in too little time._

Suddenly, the bell stopped ringing, but my ears didn't. I rubbed my ears in discomfort, hating the ringing sound that continued to wreck my brain. _Since when did silence have a sound?_ Every cough and movement sounded amplified and made me wince a little. Unconsciously, I tried to open the door again, wanting to get away from all the boys who had started moving around again now that the Greenie bell had stopped. I thought it was still shut tight, so when it fell open easily under my weight I lost my balance and fell haphazardly to the floor. I gasped as I landed awkwardly on my back, a flare of pain biting into my spine. “Shuck, isn't that bloody thing healed yet?” I hissed as I pulled myself to my feet, rubbing my back. _It felt fine until just now…maybe it only hurts if I hit it on stuff?_

“You alright?” Newt asked, appearing next to me.

“Yeah, I think so,” I murmured, straightening up immediately. “Just a scratch…”

He didn't look convinced, but moved on anyway. “Please don’t tell me we’re still gonna get bloody Newbies thrown in our laps.”

“Where’s the Box in this shuck place?” Minho muttered sarcastically.

“If anywhere, it would probably be through there.” I pointed at the open door. “That thing’s open now, I guess they finally want us to leave.” The lights had turned off on the other side, showing only a wall of darkness. “Shall I go first or does someone else want the pleasure?”

Minho breezed past me. “I'm on it. Maybe we’ll have a new little shank to pick on and kick in the butt when we got nothin' else to do.” He paused in the doorway and looked sideways at Thomas. “We could use another Chuck.”

 _Chuck? I feel like I know that name…_ I thought back to the white padded room and remembered the little boy that WICKED lady had brought with her as a shield. _She’d referred to him as ‘Chuckie’. So he was put in the Maze, huh? That kid was only, what? Ten? He’d be about thirteen now, that was pretty young even in Maze Zero…WICKED is full of slintheads if they can so easily put little kids in these places. It sounds like he died… Judging by how upset Thomas looks right now, it didn't happen long ago either. Maybe he died on the way out?_

 _What am I doing, trying to figure out when a thirteen year old kid died? You've got more immediate issues to think about._ Minho had already stepped through the doorway and Thomas was right behind him. I glanced at Newt who was quick to follow Thomas with his slight limp and I slid into place behind him, not wanting to be anywhere else. Thomas was waiting just inside, waiting for Minho to find the light switch before going further in. _I guess no one wants to bump into those hanging corpses…which, now that I think about it, don’t smell as bad any more. Just earlier I was practically suffocating because of the stench, but now I can breathe clearly._

“The smell’s gone,” I pointed out to Newt.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he answered, sounding as confused as I felt. “Maybe the Creators just sprayed the room with air freshener or something?”

“Febreze for the win.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry.” _These guys won’t remember Febreze…why do I remember Febreze? That’s basically the most random thing I could-_

“Here they are!” Minho yelled from somewhere to the right, interrupting my thoughts and probably referring to the light switches.

A few clicks sounded and then lights blazed throughout the room. The moment I could see the room I knew why I couldn't smell the rotting corpses: they’d vanished. There was no sign that they’d ever been there in the first place.

“Dude,” I muttered, staring in bewilderment at the room before entering.

Newt pushed past Thomas and walked to the centre of the room, looking equally confused and amazed. “This is impossible. Not enough time passed for someone to get them out. And no one else even came into this buggin’ room. We would've heard them!”

“That’s WICKED for you,” I muttered, turning in a slow circle to look at the whole room, taking in details I hadn't paid attention to before. “They make the impossible possible.” I took note of the chained door at the end of the room, chained and locked shut from the inside, and two other doors. One was labelled Storage Room, which must've been my room, and one was just labelled Group A. _I guess the boys slept in there…and Aris slept in this room?_ I glanced at the door that other Gladers were slowly emerging from, gasping with shock and confusion as they noticed the bodies were gone. On Aris’ door it said:

_Aris Jones. Group B, Subject B1._

_The Partner._

_Yup, that’s Aris’ room._ Everyone was talking about how the bodies were gone. Like Newt said, it would've been impossible for anyone to remove the bodies during the time they had without anyone noticing, there were too many things wrong with that. Still, however you looked at it, the bodies had gone. There was no discussion there. “Maybe they just changed the whole room,” I thought aloud.

“How the shuck could anyone do that?” Minho growled.

I shrugged, “Like I said, anything’s possible with these guys. To be honest, switching a few rooms sounds about as possible as tattooing tags on all our necks in our sleep without anyone noticing.”

“Hey,” one of the Gladers piped up. “Those crazy people quit screaming and yelling.”

Thomas listened. “I thought we just couldn't hear them from Aris’ room. But you’re right – they stopped.”

“What’s this about crazy people?” I asked, confused.

“There were these people screaming and yelling outside our room when we woke up,” someone explained. “They were trying to get in, but our windows had bars on them.”

“They kept calling themselves Cranks,” Minho added. “It was buggin’ weird.”

I flinched at the word ‘Crank’, thinking about the dream I’d had last night. _They were people with the Flare; I guess it makes people go insane or something like that._ I shuddered at the memory of all those Cranks filling the streets as soldiers gunned them down and my Dad and I wormed our way through them… _I hope I never get that close to a Crank again._

Newt was looking at me strangely, so I tried to change the subject. “So, your room has windows? Can you see the outside world?”

“Oh yeah!” Someone exclaimed and ran to their old room. All the Gladers were running that way too, probably hoping to get a clear view outside now that those Cranks had disappeared. _I kinda want to get a look too. I haven’t seen what it’s like outside since…well…I can’t remember._

“Have you guys seen what it’s like outside?” I asked Newt.

He thought for a moment. “Yeah…we got a look on our way here, after getting rescued from the Maze. It’s really…sandy? There wasn't a lot to look at to be honest and I don’t think many of us were paying attention.”

“Oh…well, it’s better than nothing.” I walked over to the door and made my way through, Newt following close behind. Unfortunately, I was faced with a great disappointment. “Shuck it. I'm guessing these things weren't bricked up before?”

The room looked basically the same as Aris’, only larger and there were clear rectangles where the windows were…though you couldn't see them. Over each window in the room, a red brick wall had been put up just outside a set of iron bars, blocking off all view to the outside world. The only light in the room came from the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “No,” Newt replied, answering my rhetoric question, “they weren't. Even if they were quick with those bodies, I'm pretty sure they didn't have time to bloody throw up some brick walls. What’s going on here?”

I walked over to one of the windows and poked my hand through the bars to press my hand against the wall. “It’s solid,” I informed them. I prodded the cement with my fingers. “And it’s dry. This thing wasn't done recently; it feels like it’s been there for ages.”  
“Your idea about them switching the whole room is starting to sound more believable now,” Minho muttered, walking over to another window to feel the walls for himself, which Thomas also did.

“You’re right, she-shank. The mortar’s dry. Somehow they've tricked us, that’s all.”

“Tricked us?” Frypan asked. “How?”

Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. Remember the Cliff? We jumped into thin air and went through an invisible hole. It’s like the girl said. Who knows what these people are capable of?”

I glanced around the room again, noticing how all the boy’s beds were made and the whole room seemed neat and tidy. “Aren't boys supposed to be messy and gross?” I asked, sniffing the room. “This place is way too clean to belong to you guys…”

“Says the girl who’s room has mattresses thrown everywhere,” Minho snorted.

“They weren't always like that,” Frypan explained. “This place was awful just a while ago, and there’s no sign of the clothes we were wearing in the Maze. Then again, I won’t miss them. They were all grungy and smelly. Wearing the same clothes for what feels like forever is like wearing klunk. Still, I hope we won’t be stuck wearing these blue pyjamas.” He prodded the clothes, “They’re not exactly practical.”

“Or stylish,” someone else added.

“Hey, Frypan,” another Glader, I think his name was Winston, interrupted, “looks like you won’t have to wear pyjamas forever.” He held up a clean white shirt and grinned.

“You shank!” Frypan laughed. “Where’d you get that?”

“The dressers are full of clean clothes and shoes. There are also digital watches just like the ones the Runners were always wearing!”

Loads of boys were crowding around the dressers but others were still milling around the room, checking things further and noticing various differences about the room. I decided to check out my own room when I heard two boys start arguing over whether or not the furniture had been moved a little. There’s nothing else to see here.

As I went to leave the room, someone’s hand gripped my arm and stopped me. “Where do ya think you’re going?” Minho asked, frowning at me suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes and shook my arm from his grip. “To contact my hidden evil spies and plot your destruction. Idiot, I'm going to check out my own bloody room.” I nodded at their dorm, “If your place has changed then mine probably has too. I’d feel a lot more comfortable in some actual clothes too.” I glanced around uncomfortably before whispering to him, “You have no idea how uncomfortable it is hanging around boys without a bra on.”

Minho’s face reddened and his eyes flickered down for a moment before he could control himself and he backed off, spluttering. “Oh…yeah, you do that.” I smirked a little and continued walking, Minho following close behind. “Should I guard your door? Y’know, to make sure no one comes in while you’re changing?”

“Sure. Can I trust you not to peek? If not, you’ll have to fetch Newt. He was always a true gentleman.”

Minho frowned a little and looked away. “It’s weird how you keep talking to us like you know us.”

I paused, mentally checking myself. “Yeah…sorry, it must be weird for you guys since you can’t remember me.”

“You make it sound like we were close.”

“We were. Not you and I exactly, you were more like someone I respected and could share some good sass with. I think you got along well with Callum too; your sense of humour was literally the same as his...though you somehow pull of being both more serious and more sarcastic at the same time. I was better friends with Gally than with you to be honest.”

Minho looked surprised. “With that shank?”

I laughed, “I know right? He’s hard to get along with, but we had a habit of saving each other’s lives on a few seperate occasions. You always said that I was 'the girl who tamed him'.” I sighed again, “Sorry, I keep going on about stuff you obviously won’t know about…”

“It’s fine,” he said. “We were friends, right?”

“Yeah...anyway why are you the one asking me all this? You were never really the type of guy to start talking about feelings and stuff.”

“That definitely hasn't changed, I just want to know more about my past,” he snorted. “You know at least some of it. Can you blame me for being curious?”

“I suppose not. You know you had a girlfriend there, right?”

He nodded slowly, his expression hardening. “I think you mentioned her briefly. A girl called Bonnie, right?”

“Yeah, she was one of my best friends.” _The one who died last_. “I didn't see you guys together a lot, I think you wanted to keep quiet about it, but when I did see you together you looked really close.”

Minho smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Yeah…she died, didn't she?”

I nodded solemnly. We’d already left the boy’s dorm and were now standing and talking outside my room. I could feel that Minho wanted some time to think so I left him outside while I entered my room. As I’d suspected, it was clean. The beds were all made, the mattresses were all in their rightful places, and all the furniture, if I looked carefully enough, had been moved ever so slightly. I opened the chest of drawers. It was still mostly full of spare bed sheets and pillow cases, but the drawer at the top had a few sets of fresh clothes, a new pair of shoes, and a single digital watch that looked almost exactly like the one I’d worn during my time as a Runner. I smiled at the sight and slipped the watch onto my wrist immediately, not realizing how much I’d missed the feel of it. Then I put on my bra without taking off my shirt, just in case one of the boys did stumble in somehow. To my pleasure it was a perfect fit.

Without hesitation, I put on all clean clothes. I now wore dark blue skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a thin army style jacket that was light and probably wouldn't do much against the cold. _With what I remember about how the world is now, I doubt I’ll need to worry about getting cold. I should worry about not burning to death. The jacket would at least cover my skin and protect it from the sun._

I was in the middle of pulling on a pair of socks when I heard a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Newt’s voice came from the other side.

“Yeah,” I called back. He walked in with Clint at his side; Minho remained outside, insisting on guarding the room. “What’s up?” I asked, feeling cautious all of a sudden.

“Don’t worry, I'm just concerned about you back,” Newt said. “I asked Clint to take a look at it, if you’re okay with that. I know you said it was just a scratch but…”

“You can’t do anything for it,” I interrupted him. “It’s healed as much as it ever will.”

“Can I just get a look?” Clint asked. “I’d prefer to know the state of everyone here. Don’t worry; I've only got a medical perspective on this. No weird stuff.”

“Oh really? You’re a teenage boy who hasn't seen a topless girl in years,” I reminded him. “Heck, maybe you've never seen one at all, but you won’t remember. You’re sure you won’t get any ideas?”

“Well I've got Newt here to stop me from doing anything, haven't I?” Clint reminded me. “Minho said you’d trust him considering he used to be your boyf-”

“No need to remind us,” Newt snapped, looking a little annoyed as well as embarrassed.

He hesitated before continuing. “Well…uh…yeah…anyway, could you please sit down?” He gestured to a nearby bed.

Sighing, I walked over and sat in it. Clint took up position behind me and asked me to remove my shirt at least so that he could get a clear view of my back. I did so, but kept my shirt and jacket pressed against my front…just in case. I didn't really know Clint very well after all, but clearly he’d been a Med-Jack once again. _Everyone took up basically the same jobs they had in Glade 0. I guess they became hard-wired for it._ I heard a hiss as Clint sucked a breath in through his teeth, probably shocked by what he saw on my back. I hadn't actually been able to get a good look at it yet, but I knew it had been a bad injury that had left a pretty nasty scar…so it probably didn't look good.

“Bloody hell…” I heard Newt whisper. “Just a scratch, you said?”

“Well…maybe that was a tad of an understatement, but I wasn't exactly going to say ‘Don’t worry, it’s just the massive aching scar on my back’, was I?”

“Can I ask where you got it?” Clint asked.

“I probably mentioned it briefly when I talked about Maze Zero,” I muttered bitterly. “You know how I accidentally fell through the magical Griever portal with a live Griever?”

Both nodded uncertainly. “Yeah…”

“Well, the Griever I fell through it with was the same one that did this to my back. I guess I got cut or something, I don’t know. I got a bunch of other injuries too, on my arms and legs and stuff. Those things are completely covered in weird spikes and stuff…”

“Yeah, I can see other scars too. On your back, your arms…you’re definitely one tough shank. You didn't exactly convey just how much you had to go through in your story; I can barely believe you managed to get out alive. All on your own?”

“Well, I would never have made it back to the Glade if Minho and Newt hadn't found me in the maze after I got out. So I wasn't completely alone.”

“Still, those are a lot of scars,” Clint continued. “With the amount of injuries you must've had at the time I'm surprised you were able to move at all.”

“I'm like a shucking painting,” I muttered bitterly, glaring at all the scars, big and small, that covered my body.

“It’s alright,” Newt said softly. “None of us could get out of there without at least a few scars.”

“Like your limp?” I asked, almost afraid to bring it up.

Newt was quiet for a moment before replying. “Yeah…like that.” I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't press him further.

“Well,” Clint continued, “I've seen all I need too. Like you said, there isn't really a lot I can do. Does it hurt at all?”

“Only if something presses it hard enough,” I answered, pulling on my shirt again. “Like if I fall on it or if someone kicks me in the back or smacks me too hard.”

“Good to know,” he nodded before going to leave. “Thanks for letting me check on you.”

“No problem,” I smiled before turning to Newt who had a dark look on his face. “You okay?”

He snapped out of his daze and focused on me again. “Yeah, fine.”

“Really? I've seen that look before.”

He frowned. “When?”

I scratched the back of my head. “Not in the best of times,” I said vaguely, hoping he’d take the hint.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, you should rest. I’ll have some guys take turns guarding your room.”

I frowned, “Why?”

“Well, you were right earlier. Most of us are a bunch of teenage boys who don’t have the purest of intentions. I'm sure no one will be thinking about that for a while, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, if it makes you feel any better. But I bet I could take on any of these boys in single combat.”

Newt laughed, “Sure. Just come to me, Minho or Thomas if you need anything. Thomas is alright, he only looks grumpy and miserable. Well…he IS grumpy and miserable, but he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” I agreed. “He doesn't have the same look in his eyes as the one he had when I last saw him. He’s not the same guy he was when he worked with _them_."

“I know. Now sleep.” Without another word, he left my room and I decided to go to bed.


	6. Nightmare

_Why is it so cold? And why am I standing up? It’s dark too; did someone turn off the lights?_ I’d opened my eyes to find myself standing in total darkness. For some reason I was more concerned with the fact that it was cold and dark than the fact that I’d woken up on my feet. I tried to look around to see if there was any light, but it was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything. I took a tentative step forwards and grimaced when my bare food touched something cold and wet. _What the…_ I moved my foot around, trying to feel what the wetness was. It didn’t feel like water, it was more like a slightly thick and sticky substance that clung to my foot. It wasn’t really cold, more like slightly below room temperature. _Is this WICKED again? Did they put me here? Probably. Where are Newt, Minho, and the others? I need to find them, what if they're in danger? But where the hell am I?_

Eventually, I moved my other foot into the substance and began walking slowly and carefully so I didn’t fall over. I kept my hands in front of me at first, weary of walking into anything, but gave up after a few minutes of nothing. I probably shouldn't have done that because, a few seconds after I decided to lower my hands, I smacked into a wall. _Shuck it!_ I cursed in my head, staggering a little. I felt the wall in front of me and my hand brushed across something that felt like a handle. Before I could think about it I was already pulling open the door.

A cold chill rushed through my body as I opened the door, a murky yellow light creeping in through the newly opened space, and I immediately sensed something terrible lurking behind the door. I took a step back, my heart suddenly pounding faster than it had before. _I shouldn't have opened the door..._

_“Claire.”_

My blood turned cold. Someone was standing in the doorway.

_“So you finally showed up?”_

I staggered backwards. _No..._

_“We’ve been waiting for you.”_

I tripped over something large and fell backwards into the sticky liquid. New light was pouring through the open door, revealing horror after horror to me. The substance around me was blood...

_“Now that you’re finally here…”_

…and the person standing in the doorway was…

_“…we can have our revenge.”_

Lorna. 

Her whole body was covered in large stitches that were only just holding all her body parts together. She was looking at me with white, dead eyes and blood was dripping from her mouth and all her stitches. Her body was limp and her head was tilted to one side as she watched me, sending chills down my spine. Her form cast a long shadow that I was sitting in and the thing I’d tripped over…was Bonnie.

Her chest was ripped open and inside I could see her motionless heart. The disturbance shook her and slowly she turned her head and a set of dead eyes locked with mine. All I could see in their depths was hate.

I scrambled away as she pushed herself up and joined Lorna, who had advanced into the room. I bumped into something behind me and yelped, staggering to my feet and whirling around to see what was there. It was the cold dead corpse of Callum hanging from the ceiling…though I could barely tell it was him. His face was nonexistent and looked like it had been violently ripped off, like it had been torn to shreds. All that was left of his face were some fleshy remains and parts of his skull. He didn't have eyes, a nose or even ears. I could just see his teeth which were snapping at me a little, blindly searching for me.

I covered my mouth as waves of disgust made my insides churn and I promptly threw up with only enough time to bend over. I didn't stop to think about the partially digested food on the floor that was mixing with the blood and tried to run away, but something grabbed my legs and stopped me. Dan was lying on the floor, legs torn to ribbons. _“You can’t leave us again, Claire,”_ he rasped. _“We won’t let you.”_

 _“You did this to us,”_ another voice chimed in, it was Felix. He was standing to my left, holding up his torn arms for me to see, blood dripping down his wrists and painting his fingers red. _“You’re a killer. They never should have let you into the Maze. You killed us all.”_

 _I didn’t mean too!_ I tried to say, but the words just wouldn't come out. I felt something drip onto my head, but was too afraid to look up. I didn't want to know what was there.

 _“Look,”_ Bonnie’s voice murmured in an almost musical whisper as she stepped towards me, standing at an angle that gave me a perfect view of her motionless heart. She took it in her left hand and pulled it out, ignoring the blood that began to seem from the gap she'd left. She held it out to me, cradling it in her palms like a gift for me. _“Look at what you've made of us.”_

Lorna walked up to me and she took my chin in one of her bloodied hands, smearing my face with red. _“You can’t ignore what you did. Face the consequences of your mistakes.”_

Slowly, she tipped my head back and I looked up at the ceiling. Hanging from it, by his feet, was the gently swaying body of Erik. His body was lifeless and unmoving, unlike the others. I tried to speak through my tears, but, again, the words just wouldn't come out. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

 _“You wanted to save us,”_ Bonnie sighed, _“but you just lead us to our deaths.”_

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

_“Now we’re all gone,”_ Lorna added, _“and you’re coming with us.”_

_I didn’t mean for anyone to die…_

_“We’ll never forgive what you did to us.”_

_I did my best…_

_“And now…”_

_I’m so, so sorry…_

_“…you’ll…”_

_Please don’t…_

_“…pay.”_


	7. Just a Dream

I lashed out at the hands that were holding me down, the suffocating grasp of terror blocking out all rationality. I sensed a change in my surroundings, but could only feel the cold hands of my dead friends clawing at me, tearing at my skin as they tried to drag me into darkness.

" _Let go!_ " I screamed, finally managing to kick off whatever was grabbing at me. Desperately, I scrambled away. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between myself and those things. " _I can't go,_ " I sobbed, trembling, " _I won't go with you, I can't. I can't. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…_ " My back hit a wall and I sat, crying and shaking in the corner. " _I'm so, so sorry._ "

"Claire? It's okay, you're safe."

At the sound of Newt's voice my eyes flickered up to look beyond the arms I was using to cover my head and shield myself. He was crouching just ahead of me, watching me with wide, concerned eyes. Minho was standing a few steps behind him, his face creased with worry. I barely noticed them; I hadn't quite shaken off the horrors of my nightmare. Had it only been a nightmare? It felt so real...

"…Newt?" I asked, barely more than a whisper, not entirely sure if I was still dreaming or not, and hesitantly lowered my arms. A lump formed in my throat at the sight of the face he was making.

"It's okay, you're safe. You don't have to go anywhere, you're okay…"

I didn't wait for him to finish whatever he was saying and threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and clinging to him as though my life depended on it. "I was so scared," I managed to say, my voice trembling. "I saw them, Newt; they were coming for me, they were...they going to..." I failed to find the right words to describe everything, too shaken to properly lace thoughts together.

I could feel discomfort radiating from Newt, but he was rubbing my back comfortingly anyway. "It's okay, you're safe now."

"I killed them," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. "It's my fault. It's all my fault. Everyone died because of me."

"It's not your fault, Claire," he tried to sooth me.

I clenched my fists around the fabric of his shirt, pain piercing my skull. "You wouldn't know, you don't remember."

Newt remained silent, though I felt him turn his head to exchange a look with Minho, who left the room seconds later. "I'm sorry," he finally answered. "I'm sorry I can't remember you or anyone else…"

"There were two boys," I interrupted him, my fists relaxing their grip on his shirt, "Marcus and James…they died in the Maze at one point and you blamed yourself for their deaths. You thought that if you'd kept your job as a Runner then you would've been there to help them and that no one would've had to die. You asked me to remember their names." I remembered the sleepless night I'd shared with Newt. We'd been sitting together at the back of the Deadheads, which had been the only place in the Glade where you couldn't hear Sonya's screams as she went through the Changing. "William was with you as one of the first Gladers and Marcus came up the month before me."

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked.

"You can't remember anything," I snorted, rubbing tears away from my eyes. "But I'm pretty sure you'd appreciate me remembering these things for your sake if you could. You felt guilty and responsible too, once. You knew what it felt like then and you probably know what it feels like now." I studied his expression and the hard look in his eye told me that I was right. "You also know that nothing anyone says will ever really convince me that if I did something different, or maybe if I hadn't done anything in the first place, they wouldn't still be alive."

He didn't say anything for a while, considering his next words carefully. When he finally did speak, his voice was soft. "Whatever you did, you had only the best intentions. No one means for their friends to die, it just...happens sometimes."

"To everyone you love in a handful of days?" I scoffed. "That's more than just one or two mistakes, Newt. That's a catastrophe."

"Minho and I are still here, aren't we?"

"Gally and Alby aren't," I said quietly.

Newt was quiet for a few minutes before he replied. "No...they aren't..." We sat in silence for a few minutes, remembering two very different pasts. I was in the middle of thinking about Lorna and Bonnie when Newt suddenly asked, "Why wasn't I a Runner?"

I frowned, not overly fond of the memories his question brought up. "After you and Minho finished mapping the Maze, you gave up hope. You didn't see the point in running in a Maze you'd already finished, so you stayed inside the Glade." I paused for a moment before adding, "You were going to kill yourself too." He stiffened when I said those words and I swear his body got a little colder. However, I kept talking, they were just memories of a past Newt now. Having his memory wiped probably spared him from such thinking again, right? "You didn't, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now, but you were going to. You said that you didn't go through with it because I was there and that without me life was meaningless. I sort of became your will to live and gave you hope again." I paused before adding, "Your words, not mine. I don't want to sound obnoxious or anything..." Newt was focused on me now, his expression indecipherable. "I'm glad you didn't go through with it, Newt," I said quietly, looking down. "It works both ways, you know. We made a promise after all. I won't die if you won't. And even if we're separated we have to keep on living until we see each other again. The only way we'll die is together…"

Newt looked in pain by this point. One hand was gripping his bad leg while the other was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. I frowned, suddenly realising how uncomfortable everything I'd been saying must've been for him. "Sorry, I've been saying a lot of weird stuff…"

"Don't be sorry," he interrupting me. He paused and let out a sigh before rubbing his face tiredly. "Anyway, are you okay now?"

I shifted uncertainly, not really sure how to answer. "I don't know…I'm kind of afraid to fall asleep again in case they come back." I looked down at my watch; I'd been asleep for about six hours. "How's everyone else?"

"Well everyone relaxed a lot after you and Tommy decided to go to sleep. There isn't really a lot we can do now except wait for something to happen. Most of the others are asleep now."

"Did I wake anyone up?" I asked, not keen on disturbing anyone any more than I already had simply by being here.

"No, Minho and I were talking about some things when you started yelling. We got to you pretty quick so I'm sure no one woke up."

I let out a sigh of relief, "Good that, they need their sleep."

"I can't imagine their dreams could be much better than yours. We've all seen our fair share of death as well...too much."

"Yeah…a lot happened in the Maze. In some ways I'm glad you don't have to remember what happened in Maze Zero. You'd have to deal with double the painful memories."

"Not that the ones I've got could be any better." He rubbed the back of his neck and gave me a weird look, as if the action sparked a memory in him. "Oh yeah, why does your tattoo call you The Glitch?"

"When did you see that?"

"Yesterday, when Clint and I came to check on your injury. That's a bloody big scar by the way."

"Thank you, I did a lot to get it." I ran my fingers over the spot on my neck where the words were located. "They call me the Glitch because that's what I am. I'm a mistake. I ruined their experiment, like I told you. We never got to the end. We never got our version of Thomas and Teresa or Rachel and Aris. I shucked up the place and we made our own escape, not something pre-designed by the Creators." I sneered, "Now they hate me for it. I don't know why I'm still alive. I should be dead."

Newt shrugged, "Maybe they still have a use for you."

"The guy from WICKED said I was _unfit_ for the Trials; that my unpredictable behaviour made me a problem and they couldn't risk any more of my mistakes. I think that's what they were going for when they called me the Glitch. They might as well have called me the Huge Mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake for us; you were trying to save everyone."

"An attempt that got most of us killed, hurrah."

"Hey, a lot of people died on the way out of our Maze too, don't beat yourself up over it."

"We had fourteen survivors, you have twenty."

"It's not a competition, you know?"

"It feels like they're making it one." I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes, not sure whether or not they were still dry. "I miss everyone…"

Newt nodded. "I miss Alby…Adam…Ben…Zart…Nick…"

"Gally?"

Newt thought about it for a moment. "He was a complete slinthead, that guy, but he wasn't the worst shank to show up in the Glade. Still, after he killed Chuck…"

I froze. "Wait, hold up, Gally killed Chuck?!"

"Yeah…Tommy beat him bloody afterwards. I don't know if he's still alive or not, he was working with WICKED and they dragged him off before we could check or anything." He frowned, "He hated Tommy a lot, too, said he was gonna kill us all."

I shook my head, "Gally's an idiot, but he's not a bad guy. He's protective of us in his own weird way."

"Yeah, he was like that before he got stung by the Grievers. Afterwards though, he just became really unlikable, not that I ever got along with him anyway."

"He must've seen Thomas in his memories then," I decided, my mind working through every possibility to prove that Gally couldn't have been a total prick. "If Gally thought Thomas was with WICKED, no wonder he'd want him dead. I mean, look at what they did to us. "

Newt sighed, "I don't know, Claire, he still killed Chuck."

"Maybe they were controlling him somehow?" I suggested, unwilling to believe that Gally would kill an innocent kid.

"Listen, I'd love to exchange theories with you, but I need to go." He stood up from the floor and massaged his sore leg a little. _I still don't know how he hurt his leg…maybe he got attacked by a Griever at some point? That would explain his discomfort when I kept talking about him being a Runner._ "Also, I suggest not bringing up the topic of Gally or Chuck around Tommy...at any point. Always assume it's a bad moment. That kid's been through enough klunk without us having to remind him."

"You guys are close aren't you? You, him and Minho, you look like the Three Musketeers or something."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it," I waved his question away. "You guys look like great friends."

"Well…we are. Minho's been with me since…well…since I can remember, and Tommy saved us from the Maze even if it did just lead us to where we are now. I hated the place and I'll always be grateful to him for saving us. He might've been part of WICKED before all of this, but he's one of us now. After he lost his memories he just became another snot-nosed Greenie. You should hear how many questions he's always asking." He smiled to himself, remembering something pleasant. "He looks miserable, but he's alright. You can trust him."

I nodded, returning his smile. "I will. Wake me up when there's food, okay?"

"Sure."

"Good that."

Newt limped out of the room and I crawled back into bed, this time taking the bottom bunk. _I don't want to risk having another nightmare and falling out of bed from that height._ I dug myself beneath the covers and nuzzled my head into the pillow, thinking over my conversation with Newt. It felt like the vast distance between us had grown smaller in the last few minutes, which made me happy though I didn't like that he'd seen me so vulnerable. _Honestly, it was only a nightmare, I didn't have to get so worked up over it. I blame WICKED, they probably did some weird mind thing to make it seem more real...oh well._ Gradually, I drifted back into a dreamless sleep, but not before my stomach let out what would be the beginning of a long series of growls.


	8. Janson

It took about three days for things to finally step out of the endless loop we became trapped in. After it became apparent that there was no food, we all just needed to play the waiting game. We had plenty of water so I knew we'd be able to survive for at least two weeks…at least until we lost the strength to make the trip to the bathrooms to actually get the water. Still, the hunger was nearly unbearable. The boys would mill about in silence, talking wasted too much energy, clutching their stomachs and pressing on them in attempt to ease the pain. I scarcely moved an inch. When I wasn't drinking I was sleeping, or at least trying to. It became harder as my hunger increased, but I was confident that the Creators wouldn't bring us here only to let us starve to death. What would be the point? If they wanted us dead they would've killed us already. They wouldn't have bothered with the clothes, the magic body swapping trick, or anything else. They'd have just shot us to bits…or maybe they just didn't want to waste the bullets on us.

I rolled out of bed once again to get another drink. Drinking eased the hunger a little but not enough to make the pain go away. I stumbled into the bathroom, leaning on the wall for support, and drank directly from the tap which I'd left on ages ago. The water never ran out anyway so why bother trying to save it? I'd been able to save the energy of turning it on and off anyway.

While I was drinking, a humming sound abruptly began from the common area. I lifted my head slowly and turned off the tap. Silence. I was about to go back to drinking, thinking I'd imagined it, when I heard the sound again. _What the hell is that noise?_ I shut off the water again and staggered out of the bathroom. My bedroom door was closed; though I was sure someone had left it open a while ago. _Another one of WICKED's magic tricks? What will be there now? Hopefully some food at last…_ I trekked across the room and eventually reached the door. It took a few tries to actually get the door open, but when it did it swung open with ease. What I saw made me want to cry.

It was a huge pile of food. Just dumped there as if out of a sack, with no order or system at all. Not that I cared much about being organized at the moment, I just wanted to eat. I walked over to the pile and collapsed on my knees when I reached it. Tentatively, I picked up the closest thing: an apple. I took a small bite at first, almost afraid that it would be fake, but it was perfect; the perfect mixture of crunchy and juicy, the texture and flavour exploding in my mouth like a fountain of joy and I couldn't stop myself from attacking it until even the core was gone. Other Gladers had also begun to gather at the pile, satisfying their hunger and going to tell their friends about it. I ignored them and kept eating, but slower this time. I didn't want to throw up at such a crucial moment.

I filled my arms with food and went to sit at the base of one of the walls, allowing the new arrivals easier access to the pile. I wondered if Newt knew about it yet and considered going to him, but relaxed when I spotted him ushering some other boys into the room. _That's just like him, always concerned about others more than himself._ He looked sated though, so I leant against the wall in peace. At least until I heard someone say, "Hey, who's that guy?"

At first I was confused, I hadn't noticed anything off about the room before, but then again I'd been too focused on the food to notice. I scanned the room and finally spotted what the kid had been talking about. A large wooden desk had been placed opposite the door to Aris' dorm room. Behind that desk was the same man who'd branded me with my title of the Glitch, wearing a white suit and sat comfortably in a chair with his feet propped on the desk at the ankles, reading a book. The sight of him made me feel physically ill. As if I could forget his name. I'd put all my hatred into it. For me, he was the face of WICKED and it's evil. Janson.

" _You!_ " I snarled, pushing myself off the floor and storming towards him. "What the hell are you-" my sentence was cut short as my body slammed into something and sent me toppling to the floor. I cursed and touched a hand to my head. "What…" Newt came over and helped me up, giving me a weird look.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," I answered, angry and confused, my body itching to lunge at Janson and attack him in any way I could. "It felt like I ran into a brick wall." I lifted my hand up and felt the space in front of me, my hand almost immediately pressing against something cold and hard…and invisible. I lifted my other hand and felt the space, spreading my arms out and feeling along.

Minho came over. "What are you _doing?_ You look insane."

"There's a wall here. That slinthead is protecting himself with an invisible wall!"

"It's true," Newt agreed, reaching out to feel for himself. "I can't bloody believe it. How can there be an invisible wall?"

"Magic, dude," Minho shrugged, biting into an apple. "This whole place is shuckin' crazy. How'd this stuff get here anyway?"

"I was here a while ago," someone spoke up from the pile. "None of this was there then. I went back into the dorm and heard a humming noise so I came back out to check what was up and there was just a big pile of food here."

"I heard the humming sound," I said, still glowering at Janson. "But I didn't notice this shank until someone mentioned it."

"You know him?" Newt asked.

I scoffed, "Know him? This shank was gonna kill me! I don't know why he didn't, he certainly made it seem like he was going to…" I ran a hand through my hair and heaved a sigh, trying to calm down. "He's one of _them._ "

A collective groan sounded from the Gladers. Any hope that we weren't still trapped in their games were crushed with that one sentence. "Has he said anything?" Minho asked.

I banged my fists against the invisible wall. "Oi, shuck face!" I yelled at him. No response. A few other Gladers came over too and started yelling things at him.

"What are we doing here?!"

"Why do you people keep doing these things to us?!"

"Go to hell!"

"My best friend died because of you!"

"Let us go!"

After a few minutes of this, Janson looked up from his book, his expression void of emotion. "Wait until I'm ready," he said calmly, but not without an undertone of aggression, before turning back to his book again. He didn't say a single word after that.

"Well we won't be getting anything else out of him," I muttered angrily. "Let's just focus on getting everyone fed for now. Where's Thomas?"

"Still Sleeping Beauty," Minho said, grabbing a few more apples. "I'll go get him. He'd hate to miss all this."

"Good that," I nodded, watching him leave and turning to Newt. "Have you eaten yet?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you?"

"Dude, I was one of the first to eat. I'm sorted. You should try their apples. Minho had the right idea, taking a bunch of them to Tommo, they're delicious."

Newt raised an eyebrow at me. " _Tommo?_ "

I frowned, confused at myself. "I have no idea why I called him that, it just came out. I think…I think I read a book with a character called Tommo in it before, but I can't remember."

"Oh right, you got some of your actual memories back, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I've got _him_ to thank for that. It's alright, but I keep remembering really random things at really random times. Like when I remember how much I miss the taste of ice cream or just now when I accidentally called Thomas 'Tommo'." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little embarrassed. "There are a lot of variations of his name though. Thomas, Tommy, Tommo, Tom…"

"Teresa called him Tom," Newt said quietly.

I studied him for a moment before smiling comfortingly. "We'll find her. Tommo won't last long without her, huh? Every guy needs a strong girl to keep him in check."

"Who _is_ that guy?" someone called out from the entrance to the boy's dorm.

"Speak of the devil," I grinned. "It's Thomas." I walked over to him with Newt.

"He won't tell us anything," one of the boys from the pile replied, "Told us we had to wait till he's ready."

Thomas stared at Janson with a baffled expression and began to walk towards him. "Wait!" I called out, but it was too late. A second later, Thomas walked right into the invisible wall though, unlike me, he didn't fall over. He rubbed his nose and stared about, shocked and confused before he began exploring the wall with his hands. "Please don't tell me I looked like that?" I whispered to Newt.

"I'm afraid you did," Newt chuckled. "You both look like right idiots."

"Thanks." I walked over to Thomas again as he started banging his fists against the wall. "That's not gonna work, mate. We've already tried that…" I stopped when Janson suddenly moved, pulling his feet from the desk and allowing them to drop to the floor with a thud. He glared at us, making no effort to hide his annoyance this time.

"How many times do I have to repeat this?" he said with the same nasal voice I remembered from the last time we spoke. He hadn't changed much in the space of three years, though he skin did look slightly paler. "We still have forty-seven minutes before I've been authorized to implement Phase Two of the Trials. Please show your patience and leave me alone. You've been given this time to eat and replenish yourselves, and I strongly suggest you take advantage of it. Now, if you don't mind…"

Without waiting for a response, he leaned back in his chair and returned his feet to the desktop. Then he resumed reading.

Thomas turned around and leaned against the wall, looking speechless. He then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at Minho.

"You met our new friend?" He responded, a smirk flashing across his face. "Real piece of work, this guy. I've gotta get one of those shuck suites. Fancy stuff."

"Am I awake?" Thomas asked.

"You're awake. Now eat – you look horrible. Almost as bad as Rat Man over there, reading his book."

Thomas went over to the pile in silence and began eating. I glanced around the room, noticing how many kids were running to the toilets, some not making it and puking over walls at the far end of the room. "These guys need to stop eating so much," I frowned. "Our stomachs aren't used to eating yet. If we suddenly throw too many solids at it…"

"We get the picture," Newt stopped me from going further. "I'll try to control them. Keep an eye on the Rat Man…actually get some more to eat as well. You're way too skinny at the moment."

I nodded and went back to my spot by the wall, eating and glaring at the same time, only occasionally going to get water. After a while kids started sitting in front of the invisible wall, waiting for something to happen. I waited for Thomas, Newt and Minho before joining them, taking position next to Minho, who was the first to break the long silence that followed after everyone was seated.

"I think we've all gone psycho like those…what'd they call themselves again?"

"Cranks," I reminded him.

"Yeah, the Cranks at the windows. We're all sitting here waiting for a lecture from Rat Man like this is totally normal. Like we're at some kind of school. I can tell you this much – if he had anything good to say, he wouldn't need a freaking magic wall to protect him from us, now, would he?"

"Just slim it and listen," Newt said. "Maybe it's all gonna be over."

I snorted as Minho continued. "Yeah, right, and Frypan's gonna start having little babies, Winston'll get rid of his monster acne, and Thomas here'll actually smile for once."

I watched as Thomas turned to Minho and exaggerated a fake smile. "There, you happy?"

"Dude," Minho responded. "You are one ugly shank."

"Be quiet, guys," I hissed to them, eyes glued on Janson. "He's finally doing something."

The Rat Man, as Minho called him, had put his feet on the floor and placed his book on the desk. He scooted his chair back to get a better view of one of his drawers, then pulled it out and rummaged through things we couldn't see. Finally, he pulled out a densely packed manila folder full of messy papers, many of them bent and sticking out at odd angles. _He's less organized compared to before,_ I thought, remembering how organized the files had been on the clipboard.

"Ah, here it is," he said before placing the folder on the desk, opening it, and looking at us. "Thank you for gathering in an orderly manner so I can tell you what I've been…instructed to tell you. Please listen carefully."

"Why do you need that wall?" Minho shouted.

I felt Minho push into me a little as Newt punched him in the arm and told him to shut up. The Rat Man just continued as if he hadn't heard Minho's outburst. "You're all still here because of an uncanny will to survive despite the odds, among…other reasons." He gave me a short glare which didn't go unnoticed by Thomas as he glanced back at me. "About sixty people were sent to live in the Glade. Well, your Glade, anyway. Another sixty in Group B and forty-five in Group Zero, we never managed to get to the sixty mark because of someone, but for now we'll forget about them."

_Yeah, he's still pissed at me…well I'm pissed at you too, shank, so we can all be pissed together._

"Out of all those people, only a fraction survived to be here today, some of you even managed to make it twice. I'm assuming you've figured this out by now, but many of the things that happen to you are solely for the purpose of judging and analysing your responses. And yet it's not really an experiment as much as it is...constructing a blueprint. Stimulating the killzone and collecting the resultant patterns. Putting them all together to achieve the greatest breakthrough in the history of science and medicine.

"These situations inflicted upon you are called the Variables, and each one has been meticulously thought out. I'll explain more soon. And although I can't tell you everything at this time, it's vital that you know this much: these trials you're going through are for a very important cause. Continue to respond well to the Variables, continue to survive, and you'll be rewarded with the knowledge that you've played a part in saving the human race. And yourselves, of course."

"Darn, I was hoping for a cash prize," I snorted sarcastically. _I can't believe I'm even listening to this guy. I've heard all this before. I know what's out there, there's no way that any of this could actually cure the Flare. Even if it did, the cost is too high. Too many people have died already. Telling us that we're fighting for a better cause, that we're saving the world, is a load of klunk and I won't go along with it for a second. Our only reward is self satisfaction? How about giving us our memories? Letting us see our families...if they're still alive...which they probably aren't... Well letting us go completely would be nice too._

I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Janson explained that he represented WICKED and told everyone that it wasn't as menacing as it sounded and that they were just trying to save the world. He gave a nice speech on how we were vital for their plan and how they have a bunch of nice fancy technology. Hurrah, hurrah.

"If I can tell you anything today, it is that you should never, ever believe your eyes. Or your mind, for that matter. This is why we did the demonstration with the hanging bodies and the bricked-up windows. All I will say is that sometimes what you see is not real, and sometimes what you do not see is real. We can manipulate your brains and nerve receptacles when necessary. I know this all sounds confusing and a little scary, perhaps." His eves passed over every Glader in the room, making sure we were focused. "The Maze was a part of the Trials. Not one Variable was thrown at you that didn't serve a purpose for our collection of killzone patterns. Your escape was part of the Trials. Your battle against the Grievers. The murder of the boy Chuck..." Thomas half rose to his feet at the mention of Chuck but Newt and I pulled him back to the floor before he could do anything. As if spurred by this, Janson suddenly rose from his chair and placed his hands on the desk, leaning in as though something incredible was happening. "The supposed rescue and subsequent trip in the bus. All of it. Part of the Trials." He turned his gaze to me and twitched a little with annoyance. "Even Maze Zero, with its incredible anomalies, turned out to be useful. Every single tiny detail, _all_ of it has been part of the Trials, you understand? Phase One, to be exact. And we are still dangerously short of what we need. So we've had to up the ante, and now it's time for Phase Two. It's time for things to get difficult."

_Well shuck me. Difficult?! You're telling me it's only getting difficult now?! Having all of your friends die is considered easy?! Watching your best friends die right in front of you and being powerless to help?! You consider any of this EASY?!_

"Can I murder him?" I asked Minho through gritted teeth, seriously considering wiping that smirk off his ugly face.

"She-shank, I'd love to see you pummel that guy into the ground, but I think – _I think_ – there's a wall you'd have to break through."

I scoffed, "Oh I think I'm pissed enough to break that force field down too."

Minho looked like he wanted to reply but Newt shushed us as the Rat Man started speaking again. He began to explain the Flare to the others, how the sun basically blew up in our faces and brought down an incomparable heat with it, as well as the disease that drove people mad. Rumblings broke out when he told us that we'd all already caught the virus and Janson quickly held up his hands to cut them off. "No need to worry – the Flare takes a while to set in and show symptoms. But at the end of these Trials, the cure will be your reward, and you'll never see the...debilitating effects. Not many can afford the cure, you know."

 _Liar, we're all immune to the Flare. You told me that yourself! We don't even need a cure, you're just trying to give us a reason to follow your plans, to do what you want!_ I opened my mouth to yell that he was lying, but no words could escape my mouth. What? I tried to speak again, but this time a blinding pain pierced my skull. I gasped a little and clutched my head. After a few seconds, the pain went away. I removed my hands and frowned. _What the shuck was that?_ After a moment I decided not to say anything loudly and chose instead to whisper it to Newt, Thomas and Minho. However, as I was about to speak, the pain came back even stronger that before. This time a slight moan escaped my mouth and Newt turned around and gave me a look of concern.

"You okay?" He whispered as Janson kept talking.

"Fine," I hissed back, rubbing my head as the pain began to ebb. "Just a headache."

He studied me for a minute before finally turning back. I frowned and looked at the Rat Man. He was still talking, but his eyes landed on me for a second and in that moment I saw a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Then I remembered his words from before: _"We can manipulate your brains and nerve receptacles when necessary."_ Negative reinforcement. They were using pain to make sure I didn't say anything about their immunity. _I'm seriously going to murder that shank when I get the chance._ I tried a few more times until the pain became unbearable before finally giving up.

"Phase Two. The Scorch Trials. It officially begins tomorrow morning at six o'clock. You'll enter this room, and in the wall behind me you will find a Flat Trans. To your eyes the Flat Trans will appear as a shimmering wall of grey. Each of you must step through it by five minutes past the hour. So again, it opens at six o'clock and closes five minutes after that. Do you understand?"

I tried to remember what a Flat Trans was. The words sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't quite remember what it was. _From the way he says we need to step though it...I guess it's either a special kind of doorway or a portal._

"I'm quite certain you can all _hear_ ," he said after no one replied. "Do...you...under...stand?"

"Yes," I sighed, exasperated. "We aren't deaf any more than you are ugly."

A few boys sniggered, but most remained silent, almost as if they were afraid of what would happen if they angered the mysterious man behind his mysterious wall. Janson, however, took no notice of my comment. "Good," he said as he absently picked up another piece of paper and turned it over. "At that point, the Scorch Trials will have begun. The rules are very simple. Find your way to open air, then head due north for one hundred miles. Make it to the safe haven within two week's time and you'll have completed Phase Two. At that point, and only at that point, will you be cured of the Flare. That's exactly two weeks – starting the second you step through the Trans. If you don't make it, eventually you'll end up dead."

I was half expecting the room to erupt into arguments, questions, panic. But no one said a word. Rat Man stood up and gathered his folder and its papers before putting them back into the drawer of his desk. "It's simple, really," he said in a tone that annoyed me even more than I already was. "There are no rules. There are no guidelines. You have few supplies, and there's nothing to help you along the way. Go through the Flat Trans at the time indicated. Find open air. Go one hundred miles, directly north, to the safe haven. Make it or die."

 _Now_ everyone erupted into a frenzy of questions, all melding into one huge roar of confusion. I only had one thing I wanted to ask him, but if I tried now there was no way I'd get an answer. I watched as Janson's gaze moved over each Glader before finally settling on Thomas. I felt rage bubble up inside of me as I glared menacingly at him, somehow feeling protective of my new friend even though we'd hardly spoken a word to one another since our confusing meeting. I could sense Minho and Newt also felt the same way as they pressed a little closer to him.

"You shanks shut _up!_ " Minho finally shouted. The questions stopped instantly. "This shuck-face ain't answering, so quit wastin' your time."

Rat Man nodded once towards Minho as if thanking him. Perhaps acknowledging his wisdom. "One hundred miles. North. Hope you make it. Remember – you all have the Flare now. We gave it to you to provide any incentive you may be lacking. And reaching the safe haven means receiving a cure." He turned away and moved towards the wall behind him, as if planning to walk through it. But then he stopped and faced them again.

"Ah, one last thing," he said. "Don't think you'll avoid the Scorch Trials if you decide not to enter the Flat Trans between six and six-oh-five tomorrow morning. Those who say behind will be executed immediately in a most...unpleasant manner. Better off taking your chances in the outside world. Good luck to all of you."

_It's now or never._

I leapt to my feet and stormed over to the invisible force field before anyone could stop me. "Oi, Janson!" I snarled at him. He looked at me with a little surprise and a lot of annoyance, like I was just wasting his time. "I've got one question for you. Just one and I doubt it's a hard one that will take up any of your time." He ignored me and turned to leave, walking inexplicably towards the wall. "Why am I still alive? You could've killed me, you were going to, but you didn't. Why?"

For a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer my question, but then, just as he was stepping through the Flat Trans, he said, "Get to the safe haven and maybe I'll tell you." And then he was gone. An instant later the invisible wall began to fog up, whitening to an opaque blur in a matter of seconds. And then the whole thing disappeared, once again revealing the other side of the common area, except there was no sign of the desk and its chair and no sign of Janson. Instinctively, I stepped forwards to stand in the exact spot Janson had stood less than a minute ago. I turned around and looked at Thomas with questioning eyes, as though he'd know what just happened, but he looked as astounded as I felt.

In seconds, the room exploded with arguments. I frowned at them, disliking the chaos, but lightened up a little when Newt pushed his way through the crowd to get to me. "What was that?" He snapped at me, looking annoyed. "Was it really necessary to run your bloody mouth off like that?"

I shrugged, "I had a question. It doesn't make sense that they'd let me in again if I might just mess everything up. You saw how annoyed Jenson looked about my continued existence, right?"

"I did. He kept giving you weird glares." He paused and gave me a weird look, "By the way, are you okay? You kept letting out weird noises, like you were in pain..."

"I'm alright," I assured him, knowing it was useless to try and explain the truth. "I was probably just agonizing over that idiot's words. He kept spouting klunk like nobody's business. I swear he's the shuckiest shuck to ever exist on the face of the planet."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Alright, you shanks!" Frypan's voice boomed from the pile of food. "We're all gonna need this food for later so no one gets a bite until tomorrow! This food is off limits! I'll sort out rations, so you all just slim your cake-holes about it for now, got it?"

"Looks like Frypan's got the food sorted out."

"Yeah," Newt agreed and looked around. "Thomas ran off to Teresa...Aris' dorm room. Minho went after him, but they've been gone for a while."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I grinned, slipping through the crowd and pulling him with me. "Let's see what the lover boys are getting up to."

We found the pair in the bathroom of the dorm. "What're you two hiding for?" Newt asked as we walked in.

"They're confessing their gay love for each other, like I said earlier," I grinned evilly. "Sorry for interrupting your make out session, guys."

"We're not hiding, though we were definitely making out," Minho said, slapping Thomas' shoulder as he frowned uncomfortably. "Thomas is just whining about his life and wishin' he could go back to his mummy."

"Tommy," Newt said seriously, not amused by mine and Minho's answers, "you went through the Changing, got some of your memories back. You too, Claire. How much stuff do you two remember?"

I exchanged a glance with Thomas, nodding at him to go first. "I don't know," he said. "I can't really picture the actual world outside or what it was like being involved with the people I helped design the Maze. Most of it's either faded again or just gone. I've had a couple of weird dreams, but nothing that helps."

"And you?" Newt asked me.

"I actually can picture the world outside to a certain extent. I don't know if any of it will be helpful though. Like I've explained before, most of what I remember comes back at random moments when I see or hear something that reminds me of it. I remember the Flare, the Scorch, the Cranks...I remember parts of my family, bits and pieces of my life before, but it's all really vague." I shrugged and tried to push away the memories that kept resurfacing about the dreams I kept having, both about my family and my friends. "The world's a mess, guys. It's a serious pile of klunk. We're literally living in a pile of klunk right now." Thomas twitched a little, as if my words made him remember something, but I continued. I told them about the memories I'd regained, how certain things were blocked out, like my real name and so on, but other things were easily accessible. I told them everything I thought would be useful, which was unfortunately not a lot, but they thanked me for the new information anyway.

The three of them seemed particularly uneasy about the Flare and the fact that they had it. I couldn't tell them that they were immune, or even that anyone could be immune. Instead, I could only reassure them that everything would be okay. "You're so confident about this," Thomas remarked. "It's like you don't even have the Flare at all."

I shrugged, "Maybe we don't? We only have Rat Man's word for it. Maybe it's all just a trick and there's nothing to stop us from running off into the sunset?"

"We can't take that chance," Newt sighed. "You're right, maybe we don't have it and it's all another trick. But what if we do have it? We can't risk running off only to end up eating each other's faces."

"Ew," Minho grimaced. "Not cool, bro."

"No, he's right," Thomas sighed. "We need to assume we're all infected. I hate to admit it, but we've got no choice." He rubbed his throat uncomfortably; clearly afraid of what might happen if they didn't get the cure, which they didn't need anyway.

"Well, we've got stuff to figure out," Newt said after a minute of silence. "And I need help to make sure the bloody food's not gone before we leave tomorrow. Something tells me we're gonna need it."

"You're right," Thomas agreed. "Are people still stuffing their faces out there?"

I shook my head. "No, Frypan took care of that. It looks like he's started putting some order into that pile of food, though I don't know how much progress he's made since we left."

"That shank's religious about food," Newt said. "I think he was glad to have something to be the boss about again. But I'm scared people might get panicky and try to eat anyway."

"Oh, come on," Minho said. "Those of us who made it this far got here for a reason. All the idiots are dead by now."

"Thanks," I grunted. "I'll let my friends know that when I eventually reach the other side."

Minho gave me an apologetic look before Newt responded. "Maybe. Hope so. Anyway, I was thinking we need to get organised, get things back together. Act like we did in the bloody Glade. Last few days have been miserable, everybody moaning and groaning, no structure, no plan. It's driving me psycho."

"What'd you expect us to do?" Minho asked. "Form up in lines and do push ups? We're stuck in a stupid dorm-room prison."

"We should probably pick someone to lead us," I suggested. "Those guys would feel a bit more confident if they knew someone was there calling the shots and keeping everyone steady. Someone reliable who people trust," I paused before adding, "One of you guys."

"Newt," Minho said immediately. "It's obviously Newt." He turned to the boy himself and shrugged. "You know it and so do we." I had to admit, Newt did seem like the obvious choice. He was reliable, always kept his head on his shoulders, everyone trusted him, plus he was the second-in-command back in the Glade. Who wouldn't immediately pick him?

But Newt had other ideas and shook his head adamantly. "Bein' hungry make you forget the bloody tattoos? You think they're just decorations?"

"Oh right," I exclaimed. "What do your tattoos say?"

"Newt's the Glue and Minho's the Leader," Thomas responded.

I didn't need to think twice about it. "Yeah, you'd probably be a fine leader for us. Just don't be too hot headed when making decisions."

"Oh, come on," Minho retorted, staring at us with mild disbelief. "You really think it means anything? They're just playing with our heads!"

In response, Newt stepped over to him and lifted his shirt, revealing Minho's branded neck. "See?" I laughed. "You're the leader. Have fun making the hard decisions, captain."

Minho spluttered. "You seriously can't expect me to be the leader of you shanks?"

"You've been chosen," I said completely seriously. "You are the chosen one."

"Newt, tell your girlfriend to shut her shanky mouth."

"Can't, she's telling the truth. You're literally the chosen one."

"Not you too?!"

"It's too late. Your fate is sealed."

"Fine. I'm the leader. Now, I order you two to go and die."

I grinned happily as Minho started a rant of sarcastic remarks. He was too sarcastic for his own good, but he'd been Keeper of the Runners and had been labelled as the Leader by WICKED. Everyone's tattoos basically matched up to who they were as a person. I was the Glitch, the terrible mistake. Newt was the Glue that kept us all together. Minho was the leader, which pretty much spoke for itself. And Thomas...I didn't know what Thomas' tattoo had said, but it probably meant something important too.

I turned to ask him, but the expression on his face kept me quiet. He looked haunted, like he was staring at death itself. _I'll ask him later,_ I decided before glancing down at my watch. "It's just past three o'clock," I informed Minho and Newt, who stopped arguing to look at me. "That means we have about fifteen hours to get ready for Phase Two, the Scorch Trials – I think is what Janson called it." I clapped my hands and smiled at them all, including Thomas who had finally snapped out of his daze. "So, let's get ready."


End file.
